


You'll Find Me Crashing

by Ghostcat



Series: All Things Go [3]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Time, Mention of Canonical Rape, Missing Scene, Sexual Content, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sidewalk, a car hood, a body. An outline- tape, not chalk. Tiny bits of broken glass glittering in the gutters. The feelings, like the details, were scattered, hard to find. Beaver jumps, Keith is alive, Logan wants to talk and Veronica has feelings she'd rather not examine. Missing scene fic, takes place during Not Pictured, post-Cassidy's suicide, pre-airport. Part of the non-chronological All Things Go series, works as a one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Find Me Crashing

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for smut. Mentions of canonical rape and suicide.
> 
> This story is set during the events of the Season Two finale "Not Pictured". Mostly canon compliant.
> 
> Part 5 of a longer series, All Things Go, based on a playlist of song prompts. "Break My Body" as covered by Hanne Hukkelberg is the prompt for this one. Works as a one-shot.
> 
> I do not own these characters, they belong to Rob Thomas.
> 
> Huge thank you to my beta, Blithers, for being smarter than me. In addition to being an excellent writer, she is a kind, patient editor. I am very fortunate to have her eyeballin' my drafts and cleaning up my messes.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my Veronica Mars Tumblr pals.

Twelve stories, the roof a murky thirteenth, impact in under five seconds. Just enough time to change your mind. To comprehend the wrongness of your choice. Then darkness. Or white-out. Who knows? A body breaks, that’s all. Slams down, then shatters inside. Bones snap and separate like bits of smashed porcelain, piercing organs, hidden from view. Limbs splayed, shoes blown off from the impact, dark red underneath. Not a person, but evidence. A photograph, overexposed, the negative space seared into the memory.

The roof of the Neptune Grand was nondescript, like any other roof, gray and dull, now made festive by the police tape fluttering at its edges. There was a smoggy view of the have-nots on one side; 09er mansions, pools, tennis courts and a sliver of ocean on the other. The night view was better. The flat expanse glittered with lights on both sides, making everything look more or less the same. But it wasn't visible from the center of the roof, you had to stand on the very edge, past the railing, to really see it. Close enough to get dizzy and fall. Or step right off.

The sidewalk, a car hood, a body. An outline- tape, not chalk. Tiny bits of broken glass glittering in the gutters. The feelings, like the details, were scattered, hard to find. Because that boy, the one who did those things, didn't exist until today. One day earlier and they were shy smiles and a stupid nickname. One day later and they became the missing piece of a lost night, tombstones drawn on a school bus seat, a rapist, a murderer, death. The kid brother and the killer. A dented mess on a parked car, alarm blaring, cutting through the quiet.

They’d put in a new code on the door, it was the old code backwards, rookie mistake, easy enough to figure out. She'd told them she was going to the penthouse suites and came here instead. She stood and watched the color of the sky change subtly and counted, and one and two and three and four and five and six… She heard him say her name and felt him by her shoulder. They stood together in silence, watching a flock of pigeons dip and rise in tandem, making curved shapes in the air.

“Does your dad know you're here?”

She turned around and looked at him. He had a bruise on the side of his face. She touched it and he closed his eyes, resting his cheek into her palm and her fingers. She took his hand and started for the stairs. They shuffled together, side by side, until they reached his room, kicking off their shoes and laying down on his bed, over the comforter, fully clothed, arms wrapped around the other. She breathed in his smell and fell asleep, dimly registering the feeling, the calmness of it.

It had been a very long night. Exhaustion had turned it into a series of flashes. Helping Mac get dressed in someone else’s clothes, mismatched socks, Neptune Grand slippers with a brocade G on the front. Calling the police. Examined by paramedics. Separated from Logan. Feeling the distance like screaming. Her eyes startling to meet Sacks’ eyes. His words not matching his mouth. Realizing the screaming came from someone else. Not her head. Talking to Cliff, the slight tremble in his sonorous voice that was too upsetting to focus on. His hand on her arm. Talking to the police. Talking to Mac’s parents. Talking, talking, talking. Logan, speaking, no, arguing with an out-of-uniform Lamb, then glancing over to her with an unreadable expression. Her throat hurting. Feeling empty. She kept inching closer, back to him, until she found herself by his side again. Cliff giving assurances that they’d be back at the station first thing in the morning and Lamb unexpectedly acquiescing. Making their way out. There were throngs of people outside, more than she expected. A woman wailed, shouting, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. People are  _hurt_.”

Veronica sat in Logan’s car and wept, folded forward, her tears dampening the front of her jeans. Logan drove one-handed, keeping his right hand on her back, making soft shushing sounds as he patted her gently. She doesn’t remember how she got from the Xterra to her apartment. He must’ve carried her.

Just a few hours later, her father was alive, in her arms, and the discovery that at least part of the nightmare was a lie did nothing to stop the tears. She’d kept crying, spending a solid hour hugging him, pinching his arms until her crying mixed with some laughter and she started to feel a bit more together. They drove to the station. Logan was already there, waiting, wearing the same clothes, as if he hadn’t made it home, and looking different somehow. Spent but reigned in, resigned. That’s when she overheard two deputies talking about Aaron, how he’d been shot at point blank range. Logan must’ve been told last night and kept it from her. She looked up at him, across the station, standing by the open doorway to an interrogation room, and it’s like he knew because he _smiled_. She’d seen that smile before. A long time ago. It had confused her then, it made the floor shift now. It was complicated. All of it. Too complicated.

Her dad had to tie up some loose ends related to Woody Goodman. She hugged him again, told him she needed to make the rounds and would he mind if she came home late. He’d understood but told her to check in by 11:00. She left before Logan, but made sure to catch his eye on her way out.

She went to Mac’s, sat next to her on the floor of her bedroom for a mostly silent hour, their arms around one another. Mac cried and tried to apologize. “For what?” she’d said truthfully. Then she went to see Wallace, who made her a sandwich she didn’t eat, let her talk about everything she needed to talk about and not talk about what she couldn’t. After that, she drove to the Grand, almost on autopilot. It was all so easy, a series of movements. She took the elevator up to the top floor, then the stairs to the roof.

 

* * *

 

Somebody got hurt and it was her, she felt a stabbing pain below her abdomen and when she put her hand there, it came away wet and bright red. Beaver, his face sweaty and twisted in rage, rolled her off the roof with his foot and she fell. She tried to think of numbers, but the ground was coming at her faster than she could count. Right before she hit, her eyes snapped awake, Logan had her by the arms and was pulling her up on the bed.

“You were falling.” His voice was heavy with sleep. His hair stuck out in odd directions and his hands were warm, hot.

She pulled herself closer and kissed him, messy and off center. He kissed her back, still half asleep. There was little hesitation, just lips to lips, clumsy and unstudied but needy, wet. It sparked and flared fast. She unbuttoned his jeans with shaky fingers and palmed him over his boxers. He panted softly in her ear, his body rubbing against hers, pausing only to make eye contact, waiting for something. She understood instantly.

“Yes. I want this.”

She didn't recognize her voice, it sounded off to her ears. Lower and raspier, she could hear the blood in it. Logan's eyes widened, then shut firmly, pressing his mouth to hers, mumbling as he did so. Yes. For him, also.

“I’m clean. And on the Pill. Are you good?”

Logan nodded and kept kissing her. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes because in that moment she could’ve told him she was Typhoid Mary and he would’ve nodded and kept kissing her. Another part didn’t want to think about that too much. No point in thinking about recklessness when you’re deliberately being reckless.

She shoved him back, quickly removing her jacket and the two layered tank tops underneath. She kicked off her jeans, underwear and climbed on top of him. She was ready. Neither of them spoke. They locked eyes and she slowly brought herself down onto him, both exhaling harshly at the sensation change. Her thumb was in his mouth, fingers spread wide on his bruised cheek, his hands were on her, kneading her hips, sliding down the curves of her ass as she ground her hips in a slow precise circle. He watched her with heavy lidded eyes and it was like looking in a mirror. She knew she had the same expression: shell shocked and exhausted and desperate. They moved against one another silently, then faster, harder, their breathing filling up the air, an answer to some long ago question that she’d forgotten she asked. But she did ask. And that’s all that mattered.

She came suddenly and it took her by surprise, she hadn’t been thinking about it or working towards it. It just happened, the force of it taking him too, his pupils blooming. Veronica fell forward, sweat-slick, and Logan kissed her face softly, whispering against her skin. She couldn't catch the words but sensed their meaning and wasn’t ready to reply. She buried her face in his neck, tasting the salt of his skin in her mouth, falling into his measured breathing. They slept again.

She woke up an hour later. The water was running in the bathroom and Logan wasn’t in bed. She slipped on one of his t-shirts and went to find him. He was brushing his teeth, his shoulders and arms beaded wet from a shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Wordlessly, he passed her a toothbrush. Hers, left over from Duncan. She didn’t ask why it was in his bathroom. It didn’t really matter. He pulled her by her t-shirt over to him. They brushed their teeth in silence, his arm slung across her chest, holding her tight, staring at each other in the mirror. He moved her aside to rinse out his toothbrush and gargle, then went back to his spot behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder, a spot of toothpaste next to his lip. He tongued it absent-mindedly.

“SO. A homer. Good work, team.”

Logan coughed in surprise and _blushed_. It was so unexpected and pretty, she felt deliriously happy to have caught it. She laughed and it felt wrong to laugh, jarring almost, but what else should they be doing? She was going to keep this moment, keep it from turning. She tilted her head back to look at him directly. He grinned slowly at her. She leaned forward, spat into the sink, put her toothbrush down and turned around, pushing herself on him, like he was a wall she needed to break through. He picked her up and brought her back to the bed. This time was slower, less sloppy but still urgent, torrid even. Something of themselves came through, the unbroken bits. When they were done, he blew raspberries into the curve of her lower back. Right at the spot where she was most ticklish. She retaliated by sucking on his shoulder, watching the skin mottle and bruise. He sighed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

“What time do you need to be home?”

“10:30.”

He brushed his lips over her knuckles, then her wrist.

“I need to talk to my dad before he goes to bed.”

His eyes met hers, hesitant and worried.

“What are we doing?”

“Living.”

He barked out a laugh in response and covered his eyes with his forearm.

“Logan.” She nudged him with her chin. “What would Lilly think of… this? If she could see us now? Doing… this?”

“She’d love it.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Her ghost is probably watching us right now. Wishing she could join in.”

He stage whispered “Go away, Lills,” and pulled the sheet over their heads. Logan and Veronica looked at each other under the whiteness of their hiding place and giggled. Giggles which grew into full throated laughter which turned into hysterics dissolving into long, drawn out sighs, the stupid and sated kind. They came out from underneath the sheets and settled more comfortably against one another.

“Do you ever see her?” Veronica closed her eyes and pictured her best friend floating among flowers, saying goodbye.

“I used to dream about her sometimes.”

She looked up at him, he shrugged.

“What did you dream?”

Logan was silent.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“No. That’s okay. Ummm. It’s kind of weird actually. She used to tell me to stop wearing orange. Said it wasn’t my color.”

She stared at him for a moment with narrowed eyes. “Stop fucking with me, Logan.”

“What? I’m serious. Who would make up something like that? Dead girlfriends visiting your subconscious to tell you you’re a Winter, not an Autumn?”

Veronica wanted so badly to smile but her lips wobbled downwards instead. “I miss her. So much.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He kissed her shoulder and resettled. Veronica laughed softly. 

“Remember when Lilly dressed like a flapper one Halloween and you said she looked like E.T. in drag?”

Logan smiled big and slow, enjoying the memory.

“That was so mean. You were such a dick.”

“I know.”

They broke again, laughing helplessly against one another. Veronica wiped at the tears in her eyes. “I’m going to hell.”

“We both are.” He crooked his finger where her sheet was gathered and tried to pull it down. She swatted at him, eyes flashing. His expression grew serious.

“Are you with me?” he asked, his voice tentative in a way that made her oddly furious.

“Are you with _me_?”

“You know I am.”

Did she? She reached out to him, intertwining her fingers with his.

He raised himself up on his elbow. “Can we talk about-”

“Nooooooooooo. Please. Please don’t. Not now.”

She slid up to him, pulling herself forward, her arms already around his neck.

“Please,” she murmured between kisses, “Please. Not now.”

“Okay. No talking.”

He blew the tendrils of hair away from her face, and kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here.”

And it struck her, so much that she pulled back and looked at him. He’d been there. On the roof. At her apartment. This morning. Making breakfast. She could tell from the soft look in his eyes that he wasn’t even thinking it. He was so stupid sometimes. Where else would she be? She didn’t say it, but hoped that it came through in the way she was touching him, running her hands up his back and down his arms, to his hands. A little rough because she could be. Because he’d let her. Break him. Into a million tiny pieces. Porcelain, no, bones, smashed into powder and blown away.

 

* * *

 

She told him about New York and he didn’t say anything, just looked lost for a moment. Finally, he spoke.

“Tuesday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Okay.”

She managed one arm in her jacket before he started taking it off. She put her purse on the opposite shoulder and he slipped it down, with a flick of his fingers. All the time, never stepping too far away, always keeping his hands on her. She tied her laces and he slid his hands down her leg and untied them, managing one shoe off. Then he unbuttoned her pants, lowered them to her ankles and pushed her gently against the wall. He tugged down her underwear with two fingers, nudged her knees apart, his nose drawing a line up the inside of her thigh and she hoped he wouldn't notice how much her legs were trembling. He toyed with her for a bit with the soft pads of his fingers, his lips brushing against her hotly, then put his tongue so far inside her she thought she might die. Afterwards, she lay on the floor next to him, one shoe still on, feeling boneless and dim. She’d had an out-of-body experience at one point, heard herself, moans louder than anything, and wondered if anyone had been listening in from the suite next door. The cries and whispers of another satisfied Logan Echolls customer. She frowned, her hand going up to her necklace, the one Lilly gave her. The gesture reassured her.

“Hey.” He walked his fingers across her skin, pulling the focus back to him, as he rubbed his cheek against her hip bone slowly, pausing to meet her eyes. He lifted himself up by the elbows and traveled further across her body until he found the spots where she’d been tasered, just under her left rib cage. Logan positioned his mouth over them and blew gently, then kissed his way back down to her thighs. She pulled him back by the hair before he got any ideas and he grinned at her, lazy and sweet. She wanted to bite him. Sink her teeth into him good. She shook her head.

“Is this the norm, Logan?” She put on her best exhausted face, mock-wiping the sweat off her forehead. “’Cause I ain’t used to this kind of workout.”

He pulled back sullenly, blowing out a puff of air, his bottom lip jutting forward. 

“With me it’s _always_ like this.” 

Logan turned his back to her, his shoulders rigid, vibrating slightly with tension.

She bit back a nervous laugh and approached him gently. “Hey. Don’t.” She kissed the spot between his shoulder blades and felt the buzz under his skin, like he was itching for a fight. She stroked down his arm, to his hand, willing him to relax.

Eventually, he mumbled an apology and turned around slowly. He put his forehead to hers. They stayed like that for a while. Until Veronica remembered the ridiculousness of her clothing situation, coughing theatrically and gesturing to her lack of coverage. Logan sat up and lifted her to standing in one fluid motion. He pulled her underwear and pants up, shimmying and smiling along with her as she wiggled back into them. He dipped down to kiss her shoulder, her neck, her forehead, then pushed her hands away when she tried to button up her jeans, doing it for her instead, before running his hand up her side, under her shirt, to her breast. She sighed, smiling into it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wear a bra. So hot,” he murmured into her neck.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “I don’t always need to. It wasn’t to make it easier for you if that’s what you were thinking, you perv.”

“Oh, _I’m_ the perv?” He laughed, and his eyes crinkled. He looked about twelve when he said that.

“Everybody knows you’re a bad, bad boy.”

“Clearly.” He smirked at her, running his fingers through her hair, tucking the stray strands behind her ear. He picked her jacket off the floor and stood behind her to help her into it, spinning her around by the waist to fasten the buttons and smooth it down. She felt incredibly silly being tended to like this.

“You know, Logan. I can still use my hands. I’m a big girl. I think I can dress myself.”

He answered by kneeling down to pull on her errant shoe, tying the laces, and kissing her knees with a light smacking noise when he was done. She put her hands up and pointed towards the bathroom, backing away from him.

“I just need a minute. Alone.”

He nodded.

She washed her hands in a slight daze. 10:27. She was going to be later than she’d wanted to be. Damn Logan and his stalling techniques. Why did she always forget? Top five things Logan Echolls excels at: #2 with a bullet - STALLING. #1? Well… that depended on whether or not she could use subcategories.

Logan was still leaning by the front door when she came out, his thumb in his mouth, front teeth nibbling at it in an absent-minded way. He could never keep his hands still, he was always doing something with them. He had vast catalogs of gestures, bits of business that were singularly him. She knew every single one of them. This was not a lighthearted realization. She took a calming breath. In. Out. She walked up to him. He dipped down to bump his knees to hers. 

“Let me drive you.”

“No. I don’t want my dad to see you.... us. Not yet. Besides, my car is here… It would be silly to leave it.”

He nodded, leaning over her, spreading his fingers wide on the wall behind her, right by her face.

“Then I’ll come with you,” he mumbled, scratching at some invisible spot, “I’ll walk back.”

“Don’t be crazy, Logan. We’re miles away.”

“I could use the air.”

“No, Logan, it’s still not safe for you.”

He looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t want you to go.”

She smiled, then kissed him, tender and slow. “I’ll make time tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“I promise.”

He wound up taking the elevator with her down to the parking area, then walking her to her car. She hadn't realized that he wasn’t wearing shoes, just socks, like he was still in his home. Which he was, home.

“Okay, Britney. Go put on some shoes.”

“Does that mean you’re my Kevin Federline?”

Veronica looked up at him, affronted. “Uh, no? I’m obviously Justin Timberlake. God, Logan.”

When she got in the car, he rapped on her rolled up window, pressing his lips to the glass, then immediately glanced upwards in embarrassment. He looked back at her, mouthed something and shrugged cutely. She didn’t know what he’d said but she smiled anyway. Veronica watched him raise his hand in her rearview mirror as she slowly drove out of the parking lot. When she got home, her phone chirped beside her. She checked it.

_Call me if you can’t sleep._

 

* * *

 

Her dad was sitting in his arm chair watching a Matlock rerun. He smiled at her when she came in. She sat on the couch corner closest to him and put her feet on his lap.

“How you doing, kid?”

“Well Pops, considering that less than 24 hours ago someone’s kid brother tried to make me jump off the roof of the Neptune Grand after leading me to believe that he’d blown you up in an airplane?" She paused to smile, sunnily. "Prrrrreeettty good. Loving life, even!"

Her father gave her one of his close-mouthed smiles, the kind he used on the more skittish clients. With a difference, of course. His eyes reflected a specific sort of concern, the way he used to look at her after Lilly or when her mom left. It warmed her, that worry.

He leaned over and rubbed her knee. “I know it’s late but in case you’re hungry I made lasagna. There’s some sitting in the microwave, just waiting for you to press the magical reheat button.”

“Oooh. I may have to risk turning into a Gremlin for that.”

Veronica wiggled her fingers in happiness. She jumped up and slid over to their kitchenette. She was starving. More so than usual. Which was a lot. She hadn't eaten since... Oh. She looked over at her dad. He was smiling at her benignly, but the fact that he was absentmindedly scratching the arm of his chair with his ring finger was a clear sign of worry.

She hadn't checked her neck. She hoped Logan hadn't left one of his calling cards. Maybe her dad would be less observant than usual.

“You look better, honey. More relaxed.”

Damn.

“Yeah… the whole ‘not dead’ thing has finally sunk in, I think.” She inhaled and smiled on the exhale, a nervous tell, she was getting sloppy. She should have taken another shower before leaving Logan's. She should've taken three.

“How is Mac holding up?”

Veronica looked to the side and worried her lip. “Not so great. Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie are going to send her to a grief counselor.”

“Mmm. They’re fine people, The Mackenzies. Caring. Smart.”

“Yes. We all agreed that Wallace will take her out a few times while I'm in New York, make sure she doesn't sit in her room in the dark forever.”

“Wallace is a good kid.”

“He is.”

“How about you?”

“I've _heard_ I'm a good kid but I suppose it depends on who you are talking to. That old Mrs. Ashworth in 110 thinks I hog all the dryers.”

Her father smiled but there it was again, scratch, scratch, scratch. Like a claw.

“I mean, do you want to see somebody? Talk about what happened.”

“ _No._ Waste of money.” She tried to soften her vehemence with a smile.

“Sweetheart, I'm sure our insurance will cover it.”

“You know what? I'd rather go see a Broadway show with puppet antelopes and singing. It will cost the same and be twice as effective.”

“Okay. But promise me that if things get… hard to deal with, you'll tell me and we can revisit the idea.”

“You got a deal.”

Her dad smiled at her, then turned back to the tv. He stopped scratching but his hand stayed tense. He yawned suddenly, his eyes closing. 

“I’m sorry honey, but I need to go lie down. You okay on your own? I can make myself some coffee if you need the company”

“No. Go to bed.”

He stood up and stretched, reaching his arms over his head. She took a big, relieved breath. He was here.

“I love you. So much.”

“And I love you more, kiddo. Come ‘ere.” 

He grabbed her in a bear hug and kissed the top of her head. Fuck it. She wasn't going to worry about her dad's keen sense of smell, he was alive, so was she. She was loved.

 

* * *

 

Miraculously, Logan had refrained from leaving any marks on her neck. Her breasts and thighs were a different story, but even those little bursts of red and purple were strategically located, clearly chosen for being easy to conceal. She was amazed he had the foresight, she wouldn't have. Her body felt sore, good sore and weirdly, still aroused, alert, buzzed. She wanted to get in her car and drive back to the Grand, go up to his room, break in, wake him up, surprise him. With her mouth, her tongue. Whoa. Settle down, Anaïs Nin. She laughed out loud and put her hand up to her face, staring at herself in the mirror. Who was this girl? Veronica Mars did not do sexually impulsive. Or maybe she did? Maybe after the kind of day she’d had, where she’d repeatedly asked herself, is this where I die, how about now, or maybe now, this was exactly what you did to put yourself back together. You let someone break you the right way.

Sex with Duncan that not-first time had been nice. They'd kissed a lot, taken it slow, it was familiar. She’d loved kissing him, loved his arms, his pert nose, his inherent sweetness. But she hadn't come and while she knew that wasn't the be all end all of sexual experience, she had hoped for it. Something definitive. Instead she watched Duncan sleep and felt guilty for continuing to listen to the goings on next door; for getting turned on by it instead of feeling disgusted by the sound of strangers fucking. She’d briefly considered taking matters into her own hands, and using that loud and clear through-the-wall assist to push things through to their logical conclusion. In retrospect, she was glad she hadn't. It would've made the scene in the hallway later a million times worse.

By her and Duncan’s third time or so, things were much, much better. It felt good and she sought it out. But she never lost her head and she never forgot. Always, at the back of her mind, was that spare bedroom at Shelly's, the light too bright in her eyes, the smudge of blood on her thigh. She wondered, after everything, if they'd ever stood a chance, if the associations from that night had made sure that it would never be quite right. Or if the very fact of being with him was in itself some kind of blatant rewrite, an attempt to normalize the story. A rewrite that proved to be unnecessary because the adjectives before the word didn’t make a difference after all. Ambiguous or straightforward, accidental or deliberate, rape was rape. And that was it. She’d been raped, twice over.

Today with Logan she hadn't thought about it once. She hadn't thought of anything at all.

11:44.

She should let him sleep.

11:45.

She punched in his number, he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“She was right you know. Orange was never your color.”

“I know. You’ve… told me so before. Obliquely.”

“I have? I don’t remember ever dispensing fashion advice to you.”

“I don’t think you were _trying_ to be helpful?”

“Oh?”

“I believe your actual words were, ‘Get away from my locker, you evil pylon! Scram!’”

She snorted. “What were you doing by my locker? Nevermind. I don’t want to know. And I never said that.”

“Oh, I think you did. I have an excellent memory.”

“Please. If I had, I would have said traffic cone. Who uses the word _pylon_?”

“You, in my memories.”

Somehow Logan made it sound like he was referring to other things. She was glad he couldn't see her. Logan Echolls didn’t need more smug in his life.

“You know, Logan, your memory is giving me a vocabulary that sounds suspiciously like your own.”

“Well, I am a fan of word specificity.”

“And yet strangely I’ve never seen you read anything but Maxim.”

“Weird, huh? I smell a new case.”

“The Case of the Bikini’d Actress?”

“Come on, Veronica. How else am I going to know what’s in at the beach this summer?”

“Says the boy who dresses like a carrot.”

“Ouch… I have another one for you-- the case of the tiny, infinitesimal, that means really, really small by the way,” he paused for a moment, she could picture the smirk, “ ...scratches on my hands. I have no idea how they got there, it’s really disconcerting. I don’t recall tussling with any wild animals today.”

She bit her lip. “I _might_ be able to help you figure out what happened.”

“Good. I was counting on a classic parlor room reveal. You can put on your sexy detective outfit if it helps.”

“Which one is that?”

“Little jean skirt, tall black boots. You can pick the tops. Tops. I know how you like to layer. Whatever works.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I support your methods.”

She smiled and said nothing.

“I can hear you smiling over the phone.”

“Nope, no smiles here,” she said, smiling.

“What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

“Hanging out with my dad. Going to the zoo.”

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

“It’s the Mars family version of chicken soup for the soul.”

“I remember. Not so much in my family. Our outings usually ended in tears and hastily purchased toys.”

Veronica was quiet. “Do you want to come with us?”

“I don’t think your dad would appreciate my butting in on your father/daughter bonding experience. Thanks though.”

She tried not to feel disappointed but he was right. One thing at a time, one person at a time.

“So when you’re done overfeeding the alpacas… you think you can get away?” His tone was light, deceptively casual. She’d forgotten how much she liked that.

“I need to spend the day with my dad. But maybe an ‘accidental’ run-in when I take Backup on his pre-dinner romp could be arranged.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“Okay.”

“Veronica.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“We didn’t get a chance to talk. Not sure what happ-”

“Please. Let’s end things on a high. Like… ” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “I can’t wait to blow you. Again.”

There was total silence on the other end for almost a minute. Then Logan cleared his throat.

“Veronica.”

“Good night, Logan. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She hung up, sat back on her bed and idly pushed at her cuticles with a fingernail. Veronica held up her hand against the light from the bedside lamp, and her fingers glowed red like lanterns, the nails much too long.

 

* * *

 

After a wonderful snack food filled half day of zoo exploration with her dad and an unexpected, but welcome nap, Veronica sent Logan a text.

_Going to go walk Backup in half an hour. Dog Beach?_

_See you there._

Backup saw him first. He wagged his tail furiously at someone approaching behind her. She turned to see Logan trudging through the sand.

“Hi.” He smiled shyly at her, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I brought you a present.”

He took a Kinder Bueno out of his back pocket with a flourish and put it in the front pocket of her jacket, buttoning it and smoothing it down. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“What? I’m not trying to cop a feel or anything. Don’t forget about it, you don’t want it to melt.”

“Oh Logan, you sure know your way into a girl’s pocket.”

She looked behind him, then crooked her finger into an unused buttonhole on his shirt, bringing him in for a kiss. He pulled back before their lips could meet.

“Nuh-uh. Not where Daddy Mars might see. Stealth, Veronica, stealth.”

Veronica’s brows knitted in disgruntlement and he grinned, kneeling down to rub Backup’s ears. The pitbull whined happily.

“He’s only supposed to approach non-family members at my command. Something about you just short circuits his canine brain.”

“Must be the bone in my pocket.” 

He slowly pulled a chew bone out of his pants pocket and waggled his eyebrows. Backup jumped up and tried to take it from him. Logan tossed it and Backup ran off to fetch.

“You are so ridiculous.”

He sat down on the sand, patted the spot next to him. Veronica joined him.

“How was the zoo?”

“Adorable. Su Lin was the roly-poly-est lil’ scamp you’ve ever seen.”

“Let me guess… baby panda?”

“Baby panda.”

Logan mimed scoring a basket, making crowd noise.

“Gee, whatever gave it away? Was it the name?”

He lifted his shoulder and rubbed it against his cheek. “Hey. Remember how you used to make me check the San Diego zoo blog for you every week?”

“Yup.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask D.K. to do that for you?”

“You know why.”

“Because you wanted me bad and you were looking for reasons to spend time alone with me?”

Veronica gave him a look. “I didn’t even know Duncan could talk until you moved to Neptune and started hanging around. I would’ve asked him if I thought he knew how to use his mouth to make words.”

“Poor tongue tied Donut. He always had a crush on you.”

“Yeah, well. It was mutual. I thought he was the perfect boy.”

She snuck a look at Logan, expecting to find him scowling, but his face was blank. He pulled at his sleeves and stared out at a group of surfers. One of them wiped out, disappeared from sight, then bobbed up again, coughing. Veronica watched as one of his friends paddled over. She almost didn’t hear Logan whisper next to her.

“I wouldn’t change any of it anyway.”

Before she could ask him what he meant, a seagull hopped down close to them. Backup barked at it and the bird didn’t budge. Eventually, it wandered away, losing interest in their stillness. Veronica inhaled sharply and reached for his hand.

“So what did you do today?”

“I identified my father’s body. Turns out he’s dead. Budump bump chhhh.”

“I heard… at the station. I'm sorry.”

Logan laughed. “Oh, you’ll like this. Guess who found him? Go on, guess.”

She shook her head, her mind a blank.

“Kendall. Isn’t that priceless? She was showering in his suite when it happened. I guess they were fucking. Something for the resume, huh? Daddy’s Taster. Clueless Procurer. Oblivious Pimp. I guess I’m out of a job.”

“Do they have a suspect? Anyone under arrest?”

“No, they’ve got nothing. The only reason they didn’t haul me in was because I wasn’t alone in my room long enough to do the deed. I was either telling the stragglers to move to the other suite… or with you.”

They shared a loaded look, which he broke, scooping up a handful of sand and letting it slip through his fingers. 

Logan sniffed, then wiped his hand on his knee. “Who knows? Maybe someone actually, I don’t know, did their job for once, looked at hotel footage or interviewed witnesses or something. Whatever. I don’t really give a rat’s ass what they did, as long as I’m not the featured player in their line-up.”

“So Neptune’s got another murder... That’s why you had to identify him.”

“It had to be the next of kin. Trina was otherwise engaged.”

“Are you okay?”

Logan bit his lip and let it go, breathing out slowly through his mouth. “They offered to show me a photo but I insisted on seeing the actual body. Had to make sure he wouldn't pop up in the final reel. Not with that hole in his head, he won’t.”

He made a circle with his fingers, then blew through it, fluttering his hand away as if it were a flurry of ashes, or confetti, scattered to the winds. Veronica rubbed her arms as if she were suddenly cold. Logan put his arm around her and shrugged.

“I’m fine. Really. So he’s dead. Who cares?”

She stayed in his arms, anchoring herself to that spot at the center of his chest, breathing in the warm, clean smell of him. She glanced at his face but his eyes were still trained forward, towards the sea.

“You know… I hated the son of a bitch but I actually _cried_. What the fuck was that about? I don’t even know.”

“He was your dad.”

“He was a monster and a murderer and I’m glad he’s dead. Saves me from having to do it.”

Backup got up and dropped the bone at Logan’s feet. He laughed and wiped at his face with his sleeve. “Thanks, boy. Now that I’m Little Orphan Annie, I’m in the market for a dog. What do you say, Veronica? Can I keep him?”

Veronica looked down at her watch and shook her head.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to turn this into the emo hour. You better go before your dad sends out a search party.” He stood up, brushed the sand off of his hands and reached out to help her up.

“Don’t be sorry. You can always talk to me.”

“Sure. Says the girl who doesn’t want to talk.” He said it softly, not unkindly, with a sad, little smile. He bopped her on the nose with his index finger. “Come on, let’s go.”

They walked slowly. Veronica reached for his hand again. She saw the scratches he’d mentioned, little red crescents dotted on his skin, red on white in the warm afternoon sun. It couldn't have been her. But it was. He let go of her hand and skipped ahead, spinning around, scrunching up his face in the way he did when he forgot to be cool. Her friend Logan who loved to mess with her, not make her dumb with want. She didn’t know what box to put him in sometimes.

“Oh yeah… I forgot to ask. Are you an Animorph? Because some dude at Starbucks asked me if I’d been trying to give my cat a bath.”

She shoved him hard. He rubbed his arm. “Ouch.”

“Walk me back.”

“Your wish is my command, Fluffy.”

They made their way to Sunset Cliffs, keeping a deliberate distance that felt a little like comedy. Logan studiously kept his hands in his pockets, occasionally kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk, grinning to himself. She squinted at him appraisingly, and he laughed.

“Yes, dear?”

“Where are you parked?”

“In the alley behind your building.” Logan lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Wanna come see?”

“We’re not going to fuck in your car, Logan.”

He blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly, looking down at his feet in mock bashfulness. “Darn.”

“But I do want to see you tomorrow. At your place. Lunch?”

He glanced up and bumped his shoulder into hers. She took that as a yes.

“Good. I’ll call you in the morning. How early is too early?”

“I haven’t been sleeping. Call me whenever. I’ll be up.”

She acted fast, pulling him down to her before he could step away and kissed right into his open mouthed gasp of surprise, one hand on the collar of his shirt, the other curled tight around Backup’s leash. She tried to put all of her need for him in it. So she wouldn't have to say anything else.

They pulled apart, breathing like runners. Logan smiled, wiped his mouth and looked around.

“Oof. Well. Coast seems clear. No red lasers pointing at my vitals.” He looked at her darkly, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her mouth. “Quick, go on, get inside.”

“Or what?” She jutted her jaw to the side, egging him on.

“Or we will fuck in the car.”

She grinned, stepping forward, issuing a challenge.

He shook his head, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and took off towards the alley, pausing to turn on his heel and wave, then spinning around again. Going out of view with a glide and a skip. She laughed softly.

Backup licked her palm. He stared balefully at her, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Sorry, boy. Let’s go eat dinner.”

 

* * *

 

“So, what’s your relationship to Logan Echolls nowadays?”

Veronica was practiced in the art of the poker face, so she didn’t cough, didn’t widen her eyes in surprise. The only sign that her father’s offhand question had unnerved her was the tiny uptick in chew speed.

“He was on the roof with you and that Casablancas boy.”

She didn’t ask him how he found out. Must’ve been someone at the station. Or Cliff. _Cliff._

“Did Cliffy call?”

Her father smiled. Ding, ding, ding. “Yup, called to see how you were doing. And to hear my voice, I think. He tries to act cool but I think he’s gonna ask me to go steady.”

“Just don’t let him talk you into dancing at the Seven Veils. Remember, you are pretty just as you are.”

“So… ”

“The roof. Yup. Logan was there. Cassidy was in full villainous monologue mode so I figured that was the best time to use my phone. Send out an SOS.”

“How did you do it?”

“I forwarded him Cassidy-pretending-to-be-Mac’s text to meet on the roof.”

“How did you know that he would get it? That he would come up?”

“I didn’t. I hoped.”

Her father sighed. She looked over at him and his eyes were welling up.

“Daddy. Stop it.”

He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. Then took Veronica’s hands in his. “So no Logan, no Veronica.”

“Probably not. But you never know, I am scrappy. Maybe I would’ve come up with another plan.”

He laughed but it sounded empty.

“I suppose this means I have to allow him to cross our threshold again.”

Veronica pushed her food around, smiling ruefully.

“You should probably take down the garlic.” She bit through a overly crunchy piece of reheated lasagna. “Ugh. When will I learn my lesson and not take the corner pieces? They get all hard and gross in the microwave.”

“Honey. What’s going on between the two of you? I didn’t even know you were on speaking terms. Are you… dating again?”

“No.”

“Friends?”

“I guess. It’s complicated.”

“With Logan, that usually seems to be the case.”

“Usually.”

“What do you want?”

“I want... a gelato. Or one of those frozen lemons they have at Luigi's.”

“That’s not quite what I meant.”

“I don’t think I can eat any more of this. Like the Mayfly, its deliciousness lasted only one day. Wait. That came out wrong. I’m off my simile game.”

Veronica stood up with her plate and scraped what was left in the garbage. She washed her dish and placed it in the dish rack. She’d put it away later.

“Veronica.”

She looked at her father, his fork still poised in mid-air.

“Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. We’ll stop. But I will say this. Obviously, I owe Logan an enormous debt of gratitude. At the same time, I can’t forget that this was the boy that I found screaming in our living room last summer, backing you, terrified… ”

“I wasn’t te- ”

“ ... _terrified_ , into a corner and destroying our property. That behavior does not fly with me. Definitely not from someone who wants to be your boyfriend. Any man that hopes to have a relationship with my little girl needs to treat her in a way that’s beyond reproach. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“I don’t want you to think that that’s acceptable behavior from someone that loves you.”

“I know it isn’t. But- ”

“But nothing. It’s not acceptable. I’m wary of him, Veronica. You should be too. If it weren't for his money and status he would be serving time right now for any number of things. I never told you this but I picked him up several times when I was Sheriff. Mostly small potatoes stuff but no different than… ”

“Dad, he…”

“Look, I believe that he cares about you, but is he good enough for you?”

“DAD!”

Her father looked shocked, his mouth opening and closing rapidly, the top of his head flushing a deep, dull red. Veronica rushed in before he recovered the ability to yell.

“I care about him. He saved my life. I’d say that’s it but that’s a lot.” She floundered, words failing her. “You don't understand.”

“Come here.”

“ _I_ don’t even… ”

“Sweetheart, I can try to understand. Just talk to me.”

He reached out to her, stepping in to hug her. She pushed him back firmly and looked him in the eye.

“Logan has had a very rough year. Regardless of who his father was, he was still his father and now he’s dead. With his mother gone and Trina being useless, he’s all alone. May I remind you that he was accused of a murder he did not commit, _again_ , his house burned down, all of his things were destroyed, _all of his mother’s things_ , and his best friend skipped town with no forwarding address and no goodbye… ”

He gave her a pointed look.

“I know. Leave me out of it for a second. Please.” She paused, tried to regroup. “Admittedly, some of this stuff was self-created. I know he’s not a complete innocent. Logan has a tendency to attract trouble. He just rushes into situations without thinking about outcomes and normally, this is the absolute worst thing, the thing that makes me want to _wring his stupid neck_ , but I’ve come to the conclusion that there is a place for that sometimes. My being here right now is the proof.”

She waited for a moment to let that sink in to her father’s head.

“I’m not sure where Logan and I are headed together but wherever or whatever that is, I would like for you to respect my choices and let me decide. I need to be able to choose. For myself.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

Her father got up and brought his plate over to the sink. He washed it, whistling a shrill approximation of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”.

“That’s it? Really?”

“Yes. You made your point well.”

She crossed her arms. “But…?”

“But know that I’ll be watching him like a hawk.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now help me clean up. Earn your keep, woman.”

They worked quickly. They were a well practiced two man team. After the cutlery and dishes were back where they belonged and countertops were wiped, her father put his arm around her and looked thoughtful. Suspiciously so.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you have Logan come by the office tomorrow for lunch? It will give us an opportunity to reacquaint ourselves.”

“Yeeeeah, no to that. In fact, if Logan and I remain… friends, I think I’m going to keep you two apart for a bit. Just until you cool down and can give him a fair chance.”

He tilted his head and gave her an innocent expression.

“I’m serious, Daddy. As a root canal.”

“Message received.”

“Thank you.”

He took her hands and smiled at her, his face softening back to its usual resting state. “So… ice cream?”

“YES, please.”

“Let’s live large and go outside for it.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica was on the phone with Mac as she packed her bag for New York. They talked about travel, dream destinations and the not-irrational urge to get the hell out of Neptune for good. Mac sounded a little muffled, like she had a cold, but brighter than the day before, more present. Veronica held up her good black dress.

“Wallace thinks I should pack more party clothes because of all the trendy hot spots we’re gonna be, and I quote, ‘hittin’ in New York. Apparently he thinks my dad and I are going clubbing. Which begs the question, has he actually met my father? And do I need to drug test him again?”

“You drug tested _your dad_?”

“No, just Wallace. Long story.”

Mac laughed. It was short, it was dry, but it was a laugh. “The last time I let my dad dance with me was two years ago at Christmas. I can’t hear ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ without major foot pain. Now when he asks, all he gets is a polite no, thank you, there’s mom, with a tray, have a cookie.”

“That sounds wise. And delicious.” Veronica rolled a couple of long sleeve shirts and stuck them in the corners of her suitcase.  As god was her witness, it _would_ pass as a carry on. She’d break out the vacuum seal storage bags, if necessary.

“Have you seen Logan?” Mac asked suddenly, in a halting, breathy tone.

“Yeah. Yesterday.”

“Cool. Next time you see him can you tell him thank you for me? He’ll know why.”

“Okay.”

“Are you back together?”

Veronica was taken aback by the directness of Mac's question. Involuntarily, she started to break down the sentence in her head. Back. Together. You.

“My dad was asking me the same thing. It seems to be the question of the moment. Must be a slow news day.”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract myself with exciting gossip.”

“Mac. This topic might not be a good idea- ”

“Please... I need to talk about regular things and not hear ‘the pause’ constantly. You know, that thing people do?”

“I am familiar with ‘the pause’.”

“Even my brother is doing it. Do you know how weird that is? I actually want him to go back to calling me a turdface. I don’t know. It just stinks.”

“It does. You’re right. We’ll make this conversation a no ‘pause’ zone.”

“So tell me about you and Logan. Embellish. Make it jazzy.”

“I don’t know. There isn’t much to say.” Veronica lowered her voice to a mock whisper. “You couldn't see it but as I said that I did a jazz hand, singular.”

“Do you like him?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to sleep with him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. That’s normal.” Mac sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.

“It is.”

“He didn’t rape me, you know.”

Veronica felt herself die a little.

“Cassidy. Everyone thinks he did. He didn’t. He would never do that. Wouldn’t have.”

She tried to talk but worried she would start screaming. Or hang up. She mulled it over as the blood pounded in her ears.

“He just took my clothes. So I wouldn't leave, I think. We’d tried… before. It hadn't worked. Sorry, I just had to tell somebody.”

Veronica considered the evidence and the hurt she might cause if she told Mac everything. In this case, the lie was the best option. It was lying by omission but still lying. The tamest kind, she rationalized.

“Uh huh,” she swallowed thickly, “I understand.”

“I read the paper today. About all the people on the plane. The guy who just got married earlier this year? His wife is due in September.”

“Yeah. I saw that.”

“So it’s true, about the mayor… and… ?”

“Yes.”

Mac was quiet. Veronica could hear, very faintly, some music playing, clashing against the hum of a fan.

“Was Cassidy using me?”

“I think Cassidy cared about you.”

“So why did he jump?”

“I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

Veronica and her father were waiting for the subway when the screaming started. Loud, overly loud, the sound of alarm, she pushed towards it rather than away. Near the entrance there was a man dressed in several overcoats, walking in circles, mumbling to himself and reeking of gasoline. He turned, holding a lit match and set himself aflame. There was no more man, just a moving fire, coming towards her, the screaming intensified.

She woke up in a panic and wondered if it was her screaming. Her father could sleep through a Sousa march, so he wasn’t coming. She didn’t think about it, just scrambled for the phone on her bedside table, dialing with shaky fingers.

“Are you awake?”

“Mmm? You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. You sound sleepy.”

“I was sleeping.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was dreaming. You were there.”

“What was I doing?”

Logan laughed, a low and dirty sound. “I’m going to keep that to myself.”

She fell back on her pillow. Sometimes Logan’s mumble was relaxing rather than infuriating. At this moment, it was the former.

“My dad and I talked about you at dinner.”

“Shit. Did he see us in the parking lot?”

“I don’t think so. He just always seems to know these things. I’m convinced that I have a tracking microchip with video capabilities implanted somewhere.”

“For both our sakes, I hope not. Though honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing that footage.”

Logan yawned. She could hear him stretch.

“So do you know when he’s releasing the hounds? Can I get a head start?”

“I think you’re safe for the night. He did want to invite you over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Huh.”

“Think about what he’s really asking.”

“Your father wants to see what my intentions are.”

“Right. That’s one interpretation. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘putting the screws on’? Hmm? I told him no way.”

“I don’t mind, you know. I’d like to clear the air. Though it might be helpful to know what I should be aiming for, intentions-wise.”

She ignored him.

“Does he know we’re, ummm, seeing each other?”

“Naked? No. On the plus side, I think you may be welcome in my home sometime this year rather than fifty years after his passing as I’d originally surmised.”

“You intend to know me that long? Why Miss Mars, I do declare, that is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Veronica didn’t hear the humor, she couldn’t. Sometimes none of it was funny.

“We’ll always know each other. Just try to stay alive, Logan.”

“Likewise, Veronica.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

They listened to each other breathe and Veronica remembered when her and Duncan used to cajole each other to hang up first. No, you do it. You first. No, you. How Lilly grabbed the phone from her once, yelled BYE, DONUT and flipped it shut. “Really, Veronica. Just hang up. Leave them wanting more.” Why weren't they all together? Had it been a sleepover or was Duncan at soccer camp? It bothered her that she couldn't remember, because she was supposed to. She was the one that remembered. Veronica heard Logan whisper, so low she thought it was part of her memory, “One… two… thr-” She hit end call.

 

* * *

 

This time he was the one on the roof, sitting against one of the skylights, left leg stretched out in front of him, eyes closed.

“Are you sunbathing?”

“Oh honey, you know how I burn.”

“Quoth the surfer, evermore.”

She leaned down to sit next to him. He opened an eye to look at her. “You’re early.”

“I got the bus right away. It took a lot less time than I thought it would. I didn’t expect to find you on the roof, though. You’re stealing my moves, Echolls.”

Logan smiled. “Hotel security is a sham. I’m up here every day and no one stops me.” He glanced down at her bare legs appreciatively, lightly running his finger down her thigh. “So what’s the story this time?”

“Errand and lunch. Needed to buy some walking shoes. We bumped into each other at the Coffee Bean. I told him I’d be back in the office by two.”

“Ah, but did I order an iced coffee or tea?”

“Coffee with cream. Hot.”

She reached out to touch his hair, she knew he loved that. It made him sleepy and pliant. He closed his eyes.

“Mmm. I’ve been thinking about symmetry. How all this mess started with me about to leap to my demise, then ended with Beaver actually doing it.”

“I don’t believe you would’ve jumped. Something would’ve stopped you.”

Logan cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Something _did_ , little guy, bald, easily distracted, hates me.” His voice rose theatrically. “Moral of the story is: your so-called friends try to kill you and…” His eyes flicked over to her. “ ...and your enemies save your life.”

“You’re not my enemy.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You saved my life.”

“You saved mine.”

“I guess that makes us even, then.”

She looked away from him, over to the railing. A roof was just a roof.

“Is that why this,” he pointed between them, “ ...is happening? ‘Cause I feel like…”

Cringing, Veronica covered her face with her hands. “Please Logan, can we not talk about our feelings right now? Pretty please?”

“Fine.”

Veronica looked out and tried to imagine the thin line of water out in the distance, the contrasting blues of the sky and the sea at their meeting point. Almost the same, but not quite. Complimentary. Beautiful.

“I had internet, I could’ve looked it up myself.”

“What?”

“The zoo blog.”

Logan’s eyes lit up.

“At first, it was just a thing to do, an easy way to make conversation if Lilly wasn’t ready yet. Then I just liked it. I liked talking to you.”

“You liked _talking_ to me.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed and let himself fall back, clutching at his stomach, as his laughter rolled out helplessly.

“Don’t rewrite history, Logan. I liked having conversations with you, I didn’t want to make out or anything.”

“ _Talking._ ”

“Yes.” She watched him laugh with narrowed eyes. “You’re such an ass. Remind me, why do I share anything with you?”

Logan sat up again and grinned at her delightedly. He pulled up his bent knees, tipping them over to hers, pushing. She pushed back. Then he tilted his head, mirroring her, and leaned in close. He had new freckles on his cheeks. Like they’d been drawn on. His lips. His nose. The planes of his face, red from the sun.

“You really need to wear more sunblock- ”

He brushed his lips against hers and it was so light it was like it hadn't happened at all. She’d closed her eyes reflexively and missed it. He put his hands up to her face, his fingers tickling her cheekbones, then planted another kiss, this one more firm, on the corner of her mouth. When she opened her eyes, he was already staring at her. His eyes were so different this close. Across a room, she could always sense it; it was the quality of Logan’s stare, it had weight. At this distance, it was all color and feel, not as dark as she expected. Warmer.

He traced the corner of her lip with his finger. “There. That’s the spot where you first kissed me.”

She nodded and angled her body so that her torso was up against his. She threw her arms around his neck. He canted his head back, just out of reach.

“Wait. Let me.”

He leaned in again, and kissed her, small and sure, all around her mouth, never fully settling, but stronger than before. She felt like she was chasing his lips, they were soft, the softest. She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, growling a bit when he pushed her away gently. He laughed.

“Slow. Down.”

He ducked his head down and looked up at her. She felt inexplicably angry. Angry that he was amused. At ease. Relaxed. In his element. She turned her head away on his next approach but that didn't stop him. His lips met her neck and this time, _he_ used his teeth, nipping lightly and laughing when she shivered. She felt his smile against her skin.

“New perfume?” He rubbed his face against her neck, breathing deeply and kissing the spot where she’d dabbed some on this morning.

“Old perfume. New to you.”

“I like it.”

She turned back to him and he kissed her straight on, sighing into it, his lips slightly parted, still not letting her go further. His hands though, his hands finally came around her waist, and up the sides of her rib cage, thumbs just brushing underneath her breasts.

There was a sudden clang of metal and Veronica leapt back, her heart going into triple time. Logan moved in front of her, getting between her body and the sound. A Neptune Grand security guard banged the entry door with his fist.

“Hey. You two can’t be up here.”

Logan turned around, reaching for her. He rubbed her upper arm slowly, in a soothing motion, before taking her hand, pulling her in. She trembled violently. Her teeth chattered, she couldn't stop it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to her. “Veronica, we’re okay. Come on. Let's go. We’ll go back to my room.”

Veronica swallowed nervously, trying to steady herself and focused on Logan's thumb on her wrist, gently stroking her pulse point.

“You two can’t be up here. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Logan’s eyes flashed over at the security guard with a potent mixture of contempt and disinterest.

“We heard you, chief. We’re going back to our suite and you’re going to go back to your little basement room with the TV screens.”

Logan mimed a box with his fingers and turned it into a dismissive wave. The security guard blinked, then put his walkie talkie away.

“I’m sorry, sir, but they've asked for us to keep people off the roof.”

“Yeah, yeah. Got it. Thanks.”

Logan put his arms around Veronica, walked her past the security guard and down the short flight of stairs to his floor. The man followed a few paces behind, then turned to go in the employee stairwell, not saying another word.

“You okay?”

She nodded once.

“These are not the droids you seek.” Her voice, while steadier, came out slightly above a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

She thought about her heart beating, fast, then faster, about life. The time that she held a robin with an injured wing in her hand, its body pulsating in her fingers. Logan’s fingers were cradling her throat and every dry swallow was life in his hands. He was talking again, burying his face in her hair, their bodies rolling and aligning as he pushed in behind her. She could feel the tremors in her thighs as she leaned back against him, tremors that spread forward and up, just like his hips, pushing upwards hard, hitting just the right place, as the sensation grew, went upwards and out. She couldn't control the noise, it sounded like it was pulled from her body from her throat, like a string of handkerchiefs, a magic trick. He shushed in her ear, not to quiet her down but to calm her. His hand went from her neck, to her stomach then down further. He kept pushing, pushing until she came again, with less of an edge but with the kind of warmth that left her melting as he continued to whisper god and I love you and fuck. I love you, Veronica. He’d said that on Sunday too.

She was okay after all, she'd just gotten a fright. He wanted to pick her up at her dad’s office and drive her to the airport. So they could finally “talk”, state-of-the-nation talk. He said this with a gentleness that matched his gaze. He told her he wanted to keep kissing her. She said that would make the talking part quite hard. He looked down pointedly, then back up with a grin.

“Oh, Logan.”

He let out a whoop and kissed her. 

“There it is. My favorite Veronica Mars smile. I’ve been waiting for it.”

“I have more than one?”

“Yeah. But that one’s the best, only that,” he touched the corner of her mouth, “...side goes up.”

He picked her up and lifted her high above him, spinning around and kissing her as she slid slowly down to the ground, touching down on her toes.

“Let your dad know I’m coming to get you. I’ll be on my best behavior.” He ducked and kissed her chin.

“Yes.” She bit his and he laughed. “Now, call me a car and no, you can’t drive me. You’re taking me to the airport, remember? The chauffeur gig is a one-time, one-way deal.”

“No fun. I want to drive you around everywhere.”

She tapped her finger to her lips, pretending to mull it over.

 

* * *

 

That night, Veronica felt her hair blowing pleasantly as they crossed the Coronado Bridge. She was a big believer in new associations so this had to be the place.

“I’m telling my dad that we've decided to date again, starting today. We can have our ‘first’ outing when I get back. Sound good to you?”

She could feel Logan glancing over to her as he drove.

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Yes.”

“I’m your boyfriend.”

She smiled at his words. Yes.

That was the extent of their talk. She was convinced that Logan had deliberately taken the scenic route so they could stop at more lights, kiss at each wait, and get honked at, over and over and over. He still managed to get her to the airport early. She stopped him from getting a ticket to San Francisco just so he could cross airport security with her.

“Remember, one week.”

“One week.”

“Everything will be fine. You'll see.”

Veronica waited for her father at the gate, people watching discreetly. Families, couples, single men in suits. He’s not flying for business, they’re starting to hate each other, she’s pregnant, he doesn’t know, he’s had an affair and will divorce her soon, she’s sick but hasn't told anyone. Click, click, click. So many people, so many pieces fitting into the greater whole. Little mysteries abound.

She went through the last few days, like it was a file, her file.  A crime scene photo of Cassidy’s body, the smell of bacon, her father telling her that he loved her, the taste of toothpaste on Logan’s lips. The red neon sign at the Grand, the flimsiness of the railing, counting the seconds because she knew she’d have to remember. Those other thoughts. _It was supposed to be me_ and _I’m glad it’s him_.

And the last one, the one she’d never tell. That Cassidy was wrong. That even with her father gone, she wouldn't jump. The edge wasn’t for the likes of her. She felt dizzy just thinking about it. Jumping. It was something she wouldn't ever have to know. Wouldn’t have to change her mind at the last second, step off by accident, or think improbable magical thoughts that she would survive the fall.  No notes, no unanswered question. She’d never get close.


End file.
